"Three food stores, twenty huts, a dozen longships, and our ore-mine; all nearly destroyed from this one raid," announced Stoick, who sat on his throne near the high table. "And it appears now that we have a war on our hands, not with Snotlout, but with these… beasts."
They were all rallied to the great hall. Before Stoick stood Hiccup, Astrid, Arn, Fishlegs, and the Twins who all wondered what the chieftain had to say, with their dragons all the meanwhile guarding outside the hall.
Near the large viking also stood Valka, Gobber, Eret, and the war council of Berk who were ready to hear what he had to say.
The council consisted of Not-So-Silent Sven, and Mulch and Bucket; the three of whom were not so much of fighting, but definitely efficient at strategy... to an extent.
"Mulch, what's happening?" asked Bucket in a whisper, only to be elbowed by the fat one-legged viking in response.
"Be quiet, Bucket! This matter is too important to speak over."
Still, they were as curious as the riders were with what Stoick wanted to tell them.
The chieftain's eyes fell first on Hiccup, and then onto Arn, who he knew had all the answers.
He stood from his throne and stepped forward to the table. His hands were pressed flat against it as he leaned forward and looked at the map in front of him.
"Now," he began. "I want answers from you. You know what these brutes are, these…"
"Orcs," Hiccup answered for Arn. "He said they are called orcs."
"Orcs?" asked Gobber and Eret in unison.
"Indeed," briefly replied Arn.
"That name sounds brute-like nonetheless," commented Valka with her arms crossed. "It is a sickening name to me."
"Aye, and yet I still do not understand," spoke Stoick. "I know almost every race in Midgard, but I've never heard of an orc."
Stoick's hand then motioned down to the map before him, and thus gestured for Arn to step forward. The young viking did as he was told, and with that, the chieftain then spun it around for Arn to gaze down at.
"And so, I want you to point out where you and those brutes come from."
Arn looked down at the map, but merely shook his head. He could see the Archipelago in the center of the map, as well as the continent of Scalmodan to the east, and Lardalor to the west... but not his home.
"I come from none of these lands," he said, to which everyone expressed confusipn. He mentioned before that he came from an island, yet the way he spoke seemed to suggest that it was no longer the case.
Arn turned back around as his eyes locked onto Hiccup. "Do you have anything that I can use to write and draw with?" he asked. "I… I need to show you all something."
Hiccup gave a questioning look in his eyes, but upon gazing back at his father, he saw the look of approval on his face.
"Go ahead, son."
Hiccup, Astrid, Fishlegs, and the Twins made their way over to Arn, and from a small satchel around his waist, Hiccup took out a utensil of charcoal and handed it to the blonde-headed viking.
Arn stared at it curiously for a moment, but shrugged before he proceeded to begin drawing something out on the map.
The riders all gathered around, observing the sketch that Arn slowly began to put in, and surely enough, their eyes soon expressed wonder and interest.
Near the very top of the map, Arn started to draw in not an island, but a landmass; another continent. Like how Hiccup and many other vikings did with their maps, the blonde lad drew in its towns, cities, forests, hills, mountains, valleys, and rivers and lakes.
After about a few minutes of drawing, Arn backed up from the map, and they saw the end result. Next to the continent, he wrote down one name that was familiar to Hiccup.
Valnr.
"This… is Valnr?" asked Hiccup, reminiscing himself back to the vision. "That's where you come from? So… that means you lied about coming from an island."
"Yes," he replied. "I had to lie to you for a reason, for things I did not want to share with you. I did not trust you at the time, but I do now, and believe me when I tell you that something is coming, and we are all in danger."
"We?" asked Astrid.
"Well to be fair, we've already faced evil foes before in the past, and we've easily dealt with them," spoke up Sven, joining in on the conversation. "How dangerous can these orcs be as a whole? I mean- I doubt that-"
"This is different," replied Arn as he began pacing the floor. "You don't understand the scale of it. The orcs and their raids are just the start of something big. Soon, they will be sending in more than what you can already handle, and it won't be just orcs."
"How big are we talking, exactly?" asked Fishlegs reluctantly.
"Possibly enough to wipe out every viking tribe, dwarven kingdom, and elven realm from the face of this world."
There was a long silence. Everyone looked at each other with worrisome and concerned looks, as well as baffled gazes. The way in which Arn described it made it sound unreal, yet they saw both honesty and truth in his eyes.
How was this possible?
Hiccup looked back at Arn. He was beginning to feel dreadful. "But the orcs," he said. "What do they want with us? What did we do to deserve this?"
"It's not just you they are after. It's all of Midgard," answered Arn. "And although I do not know who leads them, I do know where they came from on Valnr."
"So you know of their origins?" asked Stoick, to which Arn gave a sigh.
"Not exactly. But I can tell you what I know. Let me sit down and explain…"
…
"Not much is known about the orcs. All I know is that they crave nothing but the brutality and glory of war. Their appearance was first made years ago, when they attacked my father and I on a scouting trip with a war party, and since then, their numbers have increased heavily."
"The orcs and their forces come from the northern half of Valnr, which is separated by a mountain chain that divides the continent in two. Thus, the north belongs to them, and the south belongs to us."
"But when they came in their thousands, my tribe, the Alsworn, knew that conflict was inevitable."
"We went to war in the Allfather's name, and for years we fought all over the continent. But it seemed that no matter how many we took out, more and more just kept coming, and soon enough, the orcs sent in dark allies of their own..."
"Though they were not as many, they were still as dangerous."
"Many believe that the orcs recruited them through means of either convincing them, or by force with their dark energies. We call this magic chaos; it is the very power that the orcs are infused with. You can even see it in their eyes. It is why they glow green."
"Together, the orcs and their evil allies marched as a coalition of doom and chaos; the Dark Legions, they call themselves."
"As more of their armies came down from the north, and their influence expanded, the orcs soon found their way further south till they discovered the open seas, and from there, they were able to build fleets of longships to invade the south. It was only about a year ago that we learned about their raids, and it was as if they knew about the rest of Midgard from the start. In that moment, I realized then that the Legions were trying to bring this war to the rest of the world."
"And if they do, none will survive…"
…
Arn's fingers were crossed as he leaned forward in the chair he now sat in. Everyone gazed at him, lost in their thoughts. Never had they thought that something like this would ever happen, and it seemed that Berk was now in the crosshairs of something even bigger than what they had to face with Drago Bludvist.
"So," said Hiccup gently. "Is that why you are here. To find a way to stop them?"
"I already know how to stop them, and that's why I came here to begin with. Unless we can stop the Dark Legions from killing the rest of us, we need the best that Midgard can offer."
"So then why are you here?" asked Hiccup.
There was a short pause. Arn looked back at everyone, knowing this was something they all needed to hear. He then said loudly and clearly to them...
"I came here looking for the Wings of Midgard."
"The Wings of Midgard?" the young vikings asked, almost in unison. It was obvious that they wanted to know what they were.
Arn nodded back. "Aye," he replied. "The Wings of Midgard were foretold of long ago by tribal ancestors. They are said to be the most powerful warriors in the world. They are Midgard's protectors, and are, without a doubt, strong enough to fight off any dark threat that seeks to destroy this realm. Like you, they are dragon riders, which is why they are named the Wings, but so far, I have not had any luck in finding them."
"And I can tell you for a fact that none of you are the Wings of Midgard."
"Hmm… Well, in that case, maybe we will be able to find them together," said Hiccup with a convincing tone, making his way closer to Arn. "Is there anything we should know about the Wings of Midgard?"
"All I know is that they bear the ability to use magic along with other skills no viking has, and that they could only be found in an archipelago where dragons and humans lived together. In this case, it's here."
"Was there even a hint as to what island they were on?" questioned Fishlegs, but Arn merely shook his head.
"No. Only the Archipelago was mentioned, not an island. The ancestors didn't make it easy for a reason. If the answer was too simple, then the Dark Legions would-"
The sudden loud impact of the doors to the great hall bursting opened interrupted Arn and caught everyone all off-guard as ten Berkian soldiers came marching in towards Stoick, dragging with them five Clan Jorgenson troops.
"Oh dear, this doesn't look good," said Mulch.
"Chief Stoick!" one of the warriors called out.
The large chief gave a grim expression as he walked around the high table and down towards the warriors who stopped before him at attention. Everyone else then grouped around them, staring at the five men that they had their arms around.
"Clan Jorgenson warriors?" Hiccup asked one of the warriors. "How did they get here?"
"They're assassins, Hiccup. They snuck into the town and attempted to cause trouble, but we caught them before they could do anything."
"And what did they intend on doing, exactly?" questioned Stoick, glaring at the assassins who glared back at him.
"We don't know," replied another warrior. "But we have reason to believe that they wanted to assassinate Hiccup and his friends."
"What…" lightly gasped Astrid, tightening her fists.
"You have got to be kidding me," grunted Fishlegs.
"Now that's a no-way anyway!" loudly replied Tuffnut, looking at his sister. "And to think that we should have trusted Snotlout in the past."
Ruffnut gave a nod. "You've got that right, bro. After all, he already stole too many boars from me."
Stoick's brows lowered even more. "Is that so? Snotlout Jorgenson thinks he can send his men into my village and assassinate my OWN SON!? That boy has taken it more than just too far this time!"
"Push them to their knees! Search them!"
The men did as they were told, lining the assassins up and forcing them down on their knees as they searched them of anything that was on them. Weapons, tools, notes... and it was all while they were attempting to provoke Hiccup and Stoick.
"Snotlout will break you and your tribe, Haddock!" spat one of them. "Berk will belong to us!"
"Keep dreaming, coward," replied Astrid who unsheathed her axe and held it against the assassin's neck. "You tried to sneak in, and yet you failed. Maybe if I push my axe just a few more inches against your neck…"
"Sir," one warrior spoke up as he inspected the assassin in the middle, taking out a paper of folded parchment. "I found something."
"Hmph," replied Stoick as walked over to the warrior who held the parchment and proceeded to give to the chieftain.
Upon unfolding it, Stoick skimmed through it and saw that it was a direct order given by Snotlout, but upon even further inspection he saw what it was, and out of anger he crumpled it up.
"What is it Stoick?" asked Valka.
"Looks like we're right," he said, gesturing towards the crushed piece of parchment. "According to this, Snotlout made the order to not just assassinate Hiccup and the others, but to as well rob the town's vault of any riches. Looks like he's desperate."
"Shall we kill them, sir?" asked one of the warriors.
"No. Let them run back to Snotlout, and when they do, make sure the message is clear to them that Berk is defended, and that their leader has already dug himself a grave."
"...And while you do that, make sure to break one of their limbs... For each of them."
The assassins started to shake. They looked at each other as they were picked to their feet and quickly dragged out of the great hall, all while struggling and yelling out curses at Stoick.
"TO HELHEIM WITH YOU, STOICK THE VAST!"
The chieftain knew Snotlout was not going to be happy.
Hiccup on the other hand looked at his father curiously. "Are you sure that's the best choice, dad?"
"It's the only choice we have," he replied, before giving his son a pat on the shoulder. "Now all of you lads and lasses run along. Leave this meeting to the council and I. We have a long day ahead tomorrow… and possibly a cold one."
Fishlegs arched a brow. "But chief, is there something we can at least do to help-?"
"Fishlegs, I'm pretty sure my dad can handle it from here," responded Hiccup, turning to look back at the others. "For now our priority is finding out where the Wings of Midgard are, and knowing who they really are so we can stop the Dark Legions. But first starting tomorrow we must focus on helping with repairing the village, and then maybe we can search the Berkian library for anything on them."
The Ingerman gave an irritated and exhausted sigh. "Looks like I'll be sleeping at my aunt's hut tonight."